


Lasting

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 07:31:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7258264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'I thought you wanted to make this last, sensei,' Ukai says, laughter clinging into a purr in the back of his throat as he slides his hands up Takeda’s legs, as Takeda shudders at the friction and closes his fingers tight on the sheets under him. 'We could always try for quantity instead.'" Takeda takes his time with Ukai.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lasting

Takeda had been hoping to last longer than this.

He can usually draw out the first flush of arousal to span minutes when he’s alone. It’s easy to do when he’s drawing his fingertips over himself, when the action is as much idle as deliberate. Time isn’t the point, strictly speaking -- it’s not so much about how long he can make himself last as the effort involved in holding out as long as possible, whether that’s five minutes or fifty -- but it’s still a surprise how immediately hot he goes with Ukai kneeling on the bed between his open knees and leaning in over him. It shouldn’t be -- Takeda should know by now the effect Ukai has on him just by existing in the same space, much less actively trying to urge him to interest -- but Takeda’s still hard as soon as Ukai gets his pants off, flushing into want as quickly as the other presses his palms against the inside of Takeda’s knees to urge them wider.

“I thought you wanted to make this last, sensei,” Ukai says, laughter clinging into a purr in the back of his throat as he slides his hands up Takeda’s legs, as Takeda shudders at the friction and closes his fingers tight on the sheets under him. “We could always try for quantity instead.”

It’s tempting. Takeda can feel the rumble in Ukai’s voice skipping up his spine, can feel the shudder that runs through him at the idea of coming apart under the warmth of Ukai’s body once, twice, over and over until he’s shaking, until he can’t find voice for coherency. They’ve done it that way before -- that’s Ukai’s favorite approach -- but Takeda’s hard already, can feel the pleasant ache of unsatisfied want collecting low in his stomach, and he knows what he wants, knows this will be the better for patience.

“I _do_ want to make it last,” he says instead, and Ukai smiles the soft surrender that says he didn’t ever really expect to win out over Takeda’s original decision. “I’ll be fine if you go slowly.”

Ukai raises an eyebrow. “If you say so,” he says, skepticism audible on his tongue. He slides his hands up, pressing his fingertips warm against the inside of Takeda’s thighs, and Takeda is still shivering with the friction when Ukai sweeps his palms up and around to catch at his hips instead and hold the other down as he leans in to breathe against Takeda’s length. “Slow it is.”

He _does_ go slowly. Takeda is appreciative for that, albeit not in the way he expected to be. When he’s alone the drag of his fingers is more teasing than otherwise, the idle catch of friction like a slow simmer of heat just under his veins. And Ukai _is_ being gentle, deliberately so; he’s barely touching Takeda at all except for those hands bracing steady at the other’s hips, hardly coming into contact with him except for the glancing friction of his lips against the other’s skin. But what is almost a distraction when it’s Takeda’s fingers is a very different sensation when the contact comes with the heat of Ukai’s mouth behind it, when even without direct friction he can feel how hot and fast Ukai’s breathing is coming against him. It’s a good thing Ukai has his hands holding Takeda down; his hips want to rock up on their own, want to strain for more friction against the soft of Ukai’s lips or over the wet slide of his tongue to fan the heat rising in Takeda’s veins to an open flame. Ukai doesn’t speak again, not coherently, but Takeda can feel him laugh, can feel the rush of warm air against him as Ukai presses a kiss against the base of his cock before trailing back up, dragging his tongue along a line of heat that Takeda can feel tighten his fingers into an unshakeable fist against the bedsheets. He’s prickling all-over with heat, his spine arching against the bed and his legs trembling from where they’re spread open around Ukai’s shoulders; and then Ukai opens his mouth, and slides his lips down over Takeda’s length, and Takeda’s breathing stutters into a helpless moan as he bucks up hard enough that he gains an inch of height before Ukai can push him back down to the bed. Ukai laughs again, the resonance of the sound rolling all under Takeda’s skin, and then he slides down farther and Takeda has to let himself subside, has to fall unresisting to the bed and shut his eyes to block out the distraction of Ukai moving over him.

It works, for a while. Ukai is moving with a slow care that is, Takeda is sure now, far harder to resist than something faster would be; but Takeda is good at this, Takeda has done this before, and he know how to push back the edge of pleasure even as it starts to coalesce from the formless heat in him. He stops straining for it, forces the tension in his body to give way until he’s lying heavy against the support of the bed; he even manages to unclench his fingers from the sheets, when he thinks about it. It helps to have his eyes shut -- he doesn’t see the way Ukai’s shoulders shift as he moves, doesn’t see the occasional dark-eyed glances the other gives him as he draws fluttering sensation out into Takeda’s veins. But even that only works so long; the dark of Takeda’s shut eyes is too good a canvas, too clear for half-formed fantasies to play across, and after far less time than Takeda expected he has to open his eyes, has to stare fixedly at the relative safety offered by the blank ceiling overhead. He’s grabbing at the sheets again, he realizes, has to make a conscious effort to ease his hold, and his heart is pounding hard against his chest, his breathing is catching in the back of his throat. His legs are starting to shake, try as he might to steady them, and all along his spine there’s tension, heat rising higher and higher in spite of his attempts to ignore it, electricity spiking to--

“Stop,” he blurts, the word coming fast as he reaches to grab at the soft of Ukai’s hair. “Keishin, I--” and Ukai pulls away, retreating in immediate obedience to Takeda’s demand. Takeda doesn’t look down for a moment -- he’s not sure he can trust himself to right away -- and he’s still staring fixedly at the ceiling when Ukai laughs so low that it sounds nearly like a groan in his throat.

“Damn,” he says, purring over the sound like sugar on his tongue. Takeda’s stomach knots, the heat thrumming in his veins turning in on itself to frustrated desire, and he lets his breath go and looks down to see the way Ukai is watching him, with his eyes dark on heat and his mouth curving on laughter. “I thought you were done for for a sec there.”

“I did too,” Takeda admits. “It’s much faster when you’re with me.”

“Mm,” Ukai hums. “Hope so.” He lets Takeda’s hip go and reaches out to brace himself over the other’s shoulder instead, and Takeda responds immediately, turning his head up for the expected kiss even before Ukai has started to lean in towards him. Ukai purrs laughter over his lips and reaches up to catch his fingers into Takeda’s hair, and Takeda shuts his eyes and lets the strain in his body ease back and away to comfortable heat again under the soft press of Ukai’s mouth to his. It’s familiar warmth: the shudder of want along his spine and the fit of Ukai’s lips catching his, the faint salt that clings to Ukai’s tongue when the other licks into Takeda’s mouth, and when Takeda shifts it’s to reach for Ukai’s hair, to work his fingers into the unstyled soft of the bleached-blond strands. The contact makes Ukai groan without pulling away, brings him rocking down to press his hips close against Takeda’s, and Takeda arches up without thinking, the tamped-down heat in his veins surging higher at the possibility of friction offered by Ukai against him. They’re like that for a moment, Ukai pressing Takeda down against the bed and Takeda curving up to meet him, to fit as close as he can get; and then Ukai draws back, and says “Okay,” like he’s trying to brace himself, and Takeda comes back from the flush of heat rising in his veins enough to remember what he’s trying to do. He lets his hold on Ukai’s hair go, and lets himself fall back to the bed, and Ukai pulls away to rock back over his knees and push his hair back from his face with one hand.

“Okay,” he says again, and shakes his head like he’s trying to regain his focus. “I’m going to--just stay there.”

“I will,” Takeda agrees, as if there were any possibility of him leaving now. Ukai’s gaze flickers down across the flush Takeda can feel clinging to all his exposed skin, along the shift of his breathing in his chest and the tremor in his stomach down to the ache of heat Takeda can feel like a heartbeat along the whole length of his cock; his gaze only lingers for a moment, but it’s enough to draw a whimper from Takeda’s throat, enough to tense his fingers against the sheets again.

“Okay,” Ukai says again, and then he turns away, sliding off the end of the bed and moving away with a speed that speaks to his focus as much as the way he reaches immediately to work open the front of his jeans as he moves. Takeda can feel anticipation surging through him, unwinding up his spine and tensing in his shoulders until his breathing goes shallow and near-frantic with expectation; but the sharp edge of arousal is easing too, giving way with the loss of Ukai’s touch and Ukai’s stare. Takeda reaches down for himself to ghost his fingers up against the resistance of his cock as Ukai pulls a drawer open to find the bottle of lube; the sensation makes him tense, shivers excitement back out into his veins, and after a moment he closes his fingers into a gentle grip and strokes up with careful attention. The friction is warm, purring out into his veins like heat on a winter day, and he finds a slow rhythm, careful with his movement so he doesn’t go too fast and accidentally give himself more sensation than he can resist. Ukai looks back at him, his attention dropping immediately to track the motion of Takeda’s hand over himself, and Takeda can feel the sudden spike of arousal in his chest, can feel his whole body tensing as the prelude to orgasm starts to build in him again. He has to go slower still, has to ease his grip back to that barely-there touch, and then Ukai is pushing his jeans off his hips and coming back to the bed with just his t-shirt and boxers still on and Takeda pulls his hand away entirely, has to look back up to the ceiling and breathe deep while he listens to the sound of Ukai opening the bottle and spilling slick liquid across his fingers.

“Are you okay?” Ukai asks, while Takeda’s attention is still fixed on the texture overhead and he’s still trying to ease the rush of his pulse down to more manageable levels. He chances a glance down; Ukai is watching his face, as it turns out, but his eyes are blown so dark that Takeda still shudders with the weight of his attention. “Can you hold out?”

“Yes,” Takeda says, because he’s not actually entirely sure he can but he wants to, wants to push back the slow-growing wave of orgasm coming for him until Ukai is inside him, until Ukai’s cock is-- and he groans an exhale and looks back up to the ceiling, forcing his hands to relax again from the unconscious fists he’s made against the sheets. “I can wait.”

“Okay,” Ukai says, not sounding completely convinced, but either he takes Takeda at his word or doesn’t mind too much if the other comes too soon, because he reaches out without waiting for more confirmation, bracing one hand high against the inside of Takeda’s thigh to hold his legs apart while he presses slick fingers over the other’s skin. Takeda shudders, breathing out a tremor of tension on the weight of his exhale, and Ukai pushes forward and into him. It’s easy to relax into the stretch, easy for Takeda to let himself go slack with heat over the bed; it’s just an extension of what he’s already doing as a countermeasure to the tension of desire coiling up his spine and trying to flex against his legs and in his fingertips, trying to arch him off the sheets to strain for the orgasm that is just out of reach as he is now. Ukai is being gentle in his movement, working Takeda open with short, careful thrusts like he always does, and usually Takeda is in a rush for this but right now it’s better this way, better to have the almost-soothing ease of the other’s motions to take the sharp edge of _almost_ off the heat in his veins. Ukai’s hand is hot against his thigh, his touch warm and steady inside Takeda, and after a minute Takeda takes a breath and reaches down for himself again. Ukai makes a noise at the motion, a broken-open sound like he’s momentarily forgotten how to breathe; but Takeda’s pushed off the edge of arousal enough that even the shiver that runs through him at the sound doesn’t send him teetering to the brink of satisfaction, just tenses him tight around Ukai’s touch for a moment before he sighs himself back to relaxation and eases again.

It’s good like this, Takeda thinks, feeling overheated and dazed on heat as Ukai draws back, as Ukai starts to work another finger inside him to stretch him wider. The stroke of his hand is idle, barely enough to purr the suggestion of relief into his veins, and his whole body is aching now, glowing pleasantly with want and the promise of satisfaction that just edges higher with every heartbeat Takeda delays it. He feels heavy, languid even as his legs start to tremble, as his shoulders start to tense; it’s been an infinity, he’s sure, been an endless span of minutes since Ukai’s hands touched him to stoke the flame in him towards relief. The stretch feels good, too, he can feel Ukai’s fingers sliding deep into him to urge his body to relaxation, to push him open in preparation for what’s to come; and then Ukai’s fingers slide, catching inside Takeda as he draws back, and everything in Takeda’s body flashes white-hot for a moment.

“ _Ah_ ,” he gasps, surprise too sharp in him to allow for the coherency of an expletive, and he snatches his hand away from himself in desperate attempt to stave off the flush of pleasure that rushes through him. Ukai hisses, draws his fingers back by an inch to ease the sensation; but Takeda is still tensing for it, his body still tightening involuntarily around Ukai’s touch like it’s begging for the last drag of friction it needs. His cock twitches, his balls tense; and then he manages a breath, and another, and finally he relaxes back to the bed as the panic of arousal fades back out of him.

“Sorry,” Ukai says, his voice ragged on so much heat it makes Takeda’s cock jerk again just at the sound. “I thought you were going to…”

“Yeah,” Takeda says, hearing his voice tremble in the back of his throat. “Me too.”

Ukai clears his throat. “Should I--”

“Yes,” Takeda says, immediately, without waiting to hear the rest of Ukai’s question. “I don’t think I can last much longer.”

“ _God_ ,” Ukai groans. He draws his fingers back and out of Takeda with careful deliberation; Takeda shivers with the loss, the absence of friction another ache to add to that already tense along his spine. “Ittetsu, you’re.”

Takeda takes a breath and looks down to see the way Ukai is watching him, with his chin tipped down and his lips parted on heat. His hair is falling into his face again; Takeda wants to wind his fingers into it, wants to push it back so the light can hit the lines of Ukai’s face, so he can see the way the shadows in the other’s eyes look in direct illumination. Ukai blinks, his lashes tangling with his hair, and Takeda pushes against the bed to sit up so he can reach out to curl his fingers around the back of Ukai’s neck, so he can bump his nose against Ukai’s cheek and catch the corner of the other’s mouth with his. Ukai makes a low, desperate noise, turning in to match the shape of Takeda’s mouth with his own, and Takeda licks past the part of his lips, into the damp of the other’s mouth and over the heat of his tongue. He can taste the sound Ukai makes, can catch the thrum of it on his lips; and then he pulls away, and lets Ukai go, and moves to turn over on the bed before the other can reach back out for him.

“Fuck,” Ukai breathes. The bed shifts as he moves back and away for a moment; Takeda rocks back over his knees and spreads his fingers wide to brace himself against the bed as Ukai strips off what clothing he’s still wearing. There’s the sound of fabric, the rustle of a shirt falling to the floor; and then warmth, Ukai’s hand coming out to land at Takeda’s hip a moment before his knees fit between the other’s. Takeda slides his legs wider apart, the motion reflexive more than deliberate, and Ukai’s fingers tense at his skin, the other’s breath hissing into the outline of a groan as he steadies himself. “Slow, right?”

Takeda nods. The movement jars his glasses lose, sends them slipping down his nose and puts them in some danger of falling; he balances on one hand for a moment so he can reach up to push them back into place. “Please. As slow as you can.”

“Okay,” Ukai says. His voice is all smoke, now, rumbling low in his chest and scraping against the same anticipation Takeda can feel shaking in his shoulders “That might not be all that slow, sensei.”

“That’s fine,” Takeda says, and then Ukai presses against him and his coherency gives way completely as his whole body tenses on expectation. Ukai takes a breath, and Takeda whimpers an exhale, and then Ukai is sliding forward into him, the heat of his cock stretching Takeda open as he pushes forward. Ukai is making a sound over him, groaning unintelligible appreciation as he thrusts forward, but Takeda is too distracted by the surge of heat in his veins to even hear. His spine is arching, his legs straining, and for a moment he’s sure this is it, he’s going to come, he can’t hold himself back any more; but Ukai goes still over him, and he takes a breath, and the inevitability eases back again by the space of another handful of heartbeats.

“I’m going to move,” Ukai says, and Takeda isn’t sure if that’s intended as a warning or encouragement and he doesn’t have the words to answer in any case; it’s all he can do to breathe, to push back the ache of pleasure in him with each exhale with the heat-dazed focus that he only ever gets when he’s this close, when everything beyond the next few seconds has ceased to exist. Ukai is thrusting into him, each forward stroke of his hips sparking stress along Takeda’s spine until he thinks this must be when he finally gives way to the heat threatening all the self-control he can muster to hold it back. But Ukai draws back slow, so slowly Takeda can gasp through another breath and another moment of self-restraint, and when he rocks forward again it’s slower still, the friction of his motion lessened with each thrust to push Takeda impossibly closer to the edge without spilling over. He’s water in a glass, the surface curving higher and higher against the lip as it threatens to give way, as it doesn’t for another second, another breath, another thrust; and then Ukai pushes forward, and Takeda can feel himself break, can feel the strain of resistance evaporate to the breathless calm of inevitability.

“Oh,” he says, his voice shockingly clear against the sound of Ukai’s breathing over him. “Keishin, I’m going to--” and Ukai’s hips snap forward in a sudden jolt of sensation, and Takeda’s voice breaks open into a wail he doesn’t hear for the surge of heat that eclipses all his senses. His vision goes white, his hearing rings into inconsequence; he thinks he might have stopped breathing, that he may be stalled on air that he’s forgotten what to do with, but it doesn’t matter because his whole body is shaking, is quivering with the sensation surging through him like waves, each one coming so hard on the heels of the other he doesn’t have a chance to surface for air. Ukai is still thrusting into him, his movements falling into a far faster rhythm as he groans something, Takeda’s name or a curse or just heat, but Takeda can’t pay enough attention to parse the meaning in his head; he’s falling forward against the bed instead, his arms giving way to drop him against the sheets as he clutches at the blankets, as he wails involuntary reaction against the soft of the mattress. Ukai’s movement is radiating out into him, filling all Takeda’s veins with electricity too bright and overwhelming to be borne, but when Takeda finally manages to gasp a breath it’s “ _Keishin_ ” on his lips instead of protest, encouragement as the slide of Ukai into him draws the expanse of surging pleasure to unbearable heights. Ukai’s fingers are tightening at his hips, Ukai’s breathing is coming faster in the distance, and then his hips drive forward once more as he gasps and starts to come. Takeda shudders with it, his body trembling like he’s electrified with each spill of heat from Ukai’s cock inside him, and then Ukai groans a low note of absolute relief and leans forward to collapse against the sweat-slick of Takeda’s shoulders. His weight bears them both down to the bed, pins Takeda flat between Ukai’s body against his spine and the sticky-damp of the sheets under him, and for a moment they’re both still where they lie, the room going quiet but for the sound of their too-fast breathing.

Takeda turns his head to stare blankly at the wall of the room, and blinks from behind the lopsided weight of his glasses, and lets time draw long and sticky in his mind as everything in him hums in exhausted satisfaction. Finally Ukai shifts, bracing himself against the bed with one arm so he can lift his head; if Takeda turns he can just see the other looking down at him from the corner of his eye.

“Damn,” Ukai says, still sounding more than a little breathless and with the lingering traces of heat clinging to his throat. “That was fun.”

Takeda huffs a startled laugh. “It was.”

“You felt amazing.” Ukai ducks close to kiss the line of Takeda’s jaw, just under the other’s ear. “We should do that again.”

Takeda shuts his eyes and sighs through an exhale as he turns his head up in surrender to Ukai’s mouth. “Yes.”

“Next time--” Ukai says, pausing for a moment to shift his grip at Takeda’s hip and slide his hand in under the other’s waist. Takeda curves his back to make room for Ukai to fit an arm around him before they both fall back to lie heavy against the bed. Ukai presses his face against Takeda’s shoulder. “Next time I want you on your back.” He forms the shape of a kiss, weighting the damp of his lips against Takeda’s skin. “So I can see your face.”

Takeda’s whole body flushes with a shiver of warmth, a last prickle of electricity purring under his skin with a much-delayed aftershock. He can feel his cheeks going warm with self-consciousness, can feel his heart speeding with embarrassed adrenaline; but there’s a shudder of interest there too, a hum of anticipation at the idea of Ukai’s gaze on his face as he arches into the blinding rush of much-delayed pleasure at the other’s hands.

“Okay,” Takeda says, and reaches out to tangle his fingers with those of Ukai’s bracing arm next to him. “I’d like that.”

Ukai’s laugh against his shoulder thrums against his skin like electricity.


End file.
